Remember the Unintentional Martyrs!

by Joe Buonfiglio

IT’S THE PERFECT GIFT!
(And Damned Inexpensive, Too!)

Didn’t quite finish the old underground survivalist’s prepper-bunker before Trump took office and now you have no idea how to ride out the impeding chaos of WWIII? Did you not give your sweetie a worthy Valentine’s Day gift, so the Apocalyptic onslaught of World War Three is the least of your problems?

NEVER FEAR!  Let me turn you on to some downloadable gifts that are fun, won’t break the bank and PERFECT for whiling away the mindless tedium of the endless desert of the post-Trumpian Era dystopia. It’s the music of UNINTENTIONAL MARTYRS™

With song titles such as Porn Pin Blues, Bad Words, Science Denier, Unintentional Martyrs (of course) and the Trumpian delight that started it all, Donny, Donny, Donny, you can delight in an entertaining way to fill the perpetual boredom of the Apocalyptic world (and remember what got us there in the first place).

Listen to them all (click on each song’s “WATCH TRAILER” at the site) and download for ONLY 99¢ each here:

UNINTENTIONALLY MARTYRED MUSIC™

Below are a couple samples from my YouTube Channel:

SCIENCE DENIER:

 

BAD WORDS:

 

Each song is under a buck, so what the fuck!

ENJOY!

© 2016-2017 Joseph P. Buonfiglio     All Rights Reserved.

All videos, music, lyrics and graphics on the UNINTENTIONALLY MARTYRED MUSIC™ site are © 2016 Unintentional Martyrs™ with All Rights Reserved.

UNINTENTIONALLY MARTYRED MUSIC™

Padded Room for One, Please

DONALD TRUMP AND HIS SUPPORTERS ARE DRIVING ME CRAZY … LITERALLY!

by Joe Buonfiglio

It is with sincere regret that I must inform my friends, family and loved ones et al that I have officially crossed the line from being merely one who sounds as if a madman to an actual card-carrying member of the Padded Room Society … and Donald J. Trump is to blame!

Mostly.

I don’t know how it is that I could have let it get this far. I was always a Liberal-leaning moderate Independent; at least for most of the time since the 1980s when I was making my way through the world as a freelance journalist. Then American politics changed so dramatically, it thus rendered me unto the creature before you now, the foaming-at-the-mouth rabid Far Left insurrectionary banging away at his computer keyboard with literarily seditious intent. I have just lost all perspective; simply put, I have lost my mind. It has gone so far for me that I will no longer even entertain a wisp of a thought of momentarily considering the viewpoints of political adversaries; finding said perspectives so overwhelmingly repugnant. The rise of the racist, homophobic, misogynistic Alt-Right has me spending m kid’s college fund money in order to buy mass quantities of champagne to chill at the ready in the hopes that Trump’s ties to Russia are exposed and Putin has to launch his new “Really Smart Bomb” that only destroys the Trump Administration, the Tea Party, and the white supremacist Alt-Right Ultra-Conservatives, but leaves the rest of us alive to celebrate in a South Dakota that Liberals have turned into the world’s largest beer garden!

Yes, I know that’s a massive run-on sentence; fuck you. Lunatics tend to think in a stream of consciousness, so get used to it.

… or is that Theatre of the Absurd?

FUCK YOU!

See what I mean.

It wasn’t always like this. The fairly consistent sway of the political pendulum in the U.S. saw the governmental volleyball go back and forth between Democrats and Republicans in a manner that was a testament to the world’s most amazing form of self-governance. Americans would almost systematically grow their ire toward whatever party was in power as they gradually fucked things up over time, and then vote to give the other side the same opportunity to build and build and build their case until it fucked things up as well, and the pendulum would swing back again.

Beautiful.

Perfect.

It was a system of gauging comfort levels with incompetency and keeping a balance between Conservative and Liberal, Republican and Democrat that worked wonderfully for decade after decade, century after century.

And then three events occurred that went and fucked everything up, sending me — and America — down the path to madness:

FOX NEWS, CITIZENS UNITED v. FEC, and the election of DONALD J. TRUMP as President of the United States of America.

I’ll never forget the day I was finishing up a news story in the writers’ room of an independent newspaper in Tampa, Florida, when the publisher came in all excited about a conference he had just returned from on “The Future of Journalism.” Seems that the journalistic powers that be were all buzzing about what was then being termed “public journalism” or “advocacy journalism.” It was journalism with a point of view, journalism with a bias, the unholy meld of journalism and public relations … aka propaganda.

Some saw it as an opportunity to not just report, but make a difference. I saw it as the end of the press and its watchdog function. So, I immediately switched from investigative journalism to commentary, commentary to fiction, and ultimately from fiction to Absurdist-humor dark fiction. Because as the Republican-Right promotional machine known as Fox “News” burst onto the scene, it became obvious that the difference between news and entertainment would become negligible at best, so I may as well try to go where the money was.

Watching people gobble up Fox News as if it was “real” journalism, watching “real” news outlets being forced to do the same damn thing on whatever side of the political spectrum they now aligned in order to survive the Fox onslaught, and watching the press itself become an absolute reviled joke began my slide down the slippery slope of insanity. As the American people stopped wanting the press to protect them from abuse by the powerful and the corrupt, stopped wanting the press to inform them so that they could make critical decisions affecting their lives, and merely wanted the “news” to reinforce that which they already believed, I began to descend into madness.

Next, the United States Supreme Court sealed the fate of my mental instability with its decision in the Citizens United case. By the Court’s decision to toss out the ban on corporations making independent expenditures toward and financing the communications of elections, it signaled the death knell of American democracy. It made it so that corporations were to be considered “people, too,” but without any limits on the sums they could spend on elections. In essence, corporations and the billionaires that own them can buy elections. They could buy the country for their own, personal plaything. And somehow, SOMEHOW, the trailer park set and their working-poor comrades think this is a good thing for them.

What. The ever-lovin’. Fuck.

Now, the stage is set. Riding the Tea Party’s coattails, Mr. Donald J. Trump rallies his Army of the Angry Whites, leading the “whitelash” Charge of the White Brigade all the way into the Oval Office with the most hateful “Rise of the Fourth Reich” approach this country has ever seen. The more racist he is, the more they love him. The more homophobic and misogynistic he is, the more they cheer. The more he and his toady Steve Bannon step on the Constitution, the happier his Alt-Right Asylum erupts with glee. He and his All-American Axis of Evil will control all branches of government soon. And even though der Trumpenführer lost the election by nearly 3 million votes, the faulty Electoral College system gave him the White House where he and the no-integrity Republicans continue roll over the— GODDAMN FUCKING RACIST CON MAN BULLSHITTING FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU, YOU PIG-FUCKING SONS A BITCH—

See what I mean? I’m totally off the rails. My trolley has not only slid off the tracks, it’s plummeting down the hillside in a fireball of horror.

There’s no turning back for me. So, just let me know when you’re all ready to start the revolution to overthrow tyranny; I’m sharpening my pitchfork as soon as I’ve finished posted this. See, it’s important to remember that in these times of—

Yes, doctor, I took my pills. No, I’m not hiding them under my tongue again. No. No, stop. STOP! NOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHahahahahaaaaaa….….

 

© 2017 Joseph P. Buonfiglio     All Rights Reserved.
All photos are © 2017 Joseph P. Buonfiglio with All Rights Reserved.

JOEKU #2

Haiku with an Absurdist Twist

JOEKU #2: “Tricky Dick is Laughing”

by Joe Buonfiglio

Looking for Haiku with an Absurdist kick?  Welcome to “Joeku™.”  Episode #2, “Tricky Dick is Laughing,” features der Trumpenführer, so … … … enjoy?

 © 2017 Joseph P. Buonfiglio     All Rights Reserved.
All videos are © 2017 Joseph P. Buonfiglio with All Rights Reserved.

HERE LIES JOE BUONFIGLIO

WILL YOU MISS ME WHEN I’M GONE?

by Joe Buonfiglio

Let’s say I’m dead.

What? How did I die?

I don’t know. Probably one of the normal ways: slipped in the shower, fell down the stairs, blown up by fireworks, ravaged by disease, rammed by a maniac with road rage, one Big Mac too many, impaled by a pumpkin-carving tool …. I’m an American; we practically live to figure out ways to kill ourselves. This is a hypothetical, so don’t get bogged down in the details of my demise. The particulars don’t matter beyond needing a body to bury for illustrative purposes. No, not being eaten by a T-Rex while hiding on a toilet seat in Jurassic Park; that’s the only lethal scenario that won’t work.

So anyway, I’m dead.

What will people say about me when I’m gone? It makes me shudder to even briefly contemplate how some of you bastards will talk about me behind my back; or to be more accurate, behind my corpse….

“He was a quiet man. Kept to himself. I guess we shouldn’t have been surprised when they found his body surrounded by all those empty doughnut boxes…. So many empty doughnut boxes…. So. Many. Doughnuts. Damn, man, how about a little self-respect!”

“What’s up with the squirrels? No, seriously, he had a thing for squirrels. It was weird…. … … It was fucking unnatural, is what it was.”

 “What can I say? He was an asshole.”

“Good God, the guy could put back some cheese! Cheap store-brand shit, high-end hoity-toity stinky cheese; didn’t matter. He always had some kind of cheese hanging out of his face at all times. Just a cheese freak, really…. … … I’m pretty sure I saw him bang a smoked gouda in high school once.”

“I always thought someone would have shot him.”

“He was a hoarder. Oh yeah. A lot of people didn’t know that about him. He hoarded stationery goods. Paper, pens, pencils, Sharpies, Scotch tape, address labels, Post-it Notes, index cards, glue, paperclips, et cetera. Mounds of the stuff. He claimed it was because he was a writer, but we all knew the truth. The crazy bastard loved getting deliveries from the office-supply store. It was his only form of social interaction, really…. … … He carried around a picture of Lucrezia Borgia naked eating a baloney baguette in his wallet, too, but that’s a story for another day.”

“HE FUCKED A MONKEY ONCE! I SAW HIM DO IT! … … … Okay, he just cupped its balls, BUT IT WAS STILL PRETTY DISGUSTING!”

“Joe was a gentle and kind soul, and he will be missed…. … … Okay, he was a rageful lunatic and we’re ALL gonna piss on his grave as soon as the service is over!”

“In college, he purposely ran over a cyclist with his old Ford pickup and just kept going. The fucker should be in prison. No, seriously, I don’t care if he’s dead; he should be locked up!”

“He enjoyed licking the icing off of cupcakes and then putting them back in the box. What kind of animal does such a thing?”

 “I once saw him shove a kaleidoscope up a bus driver’s butt.”

 “I once saw a bus driver shove a kaleidoscope up his butt.”

 “I once saw a bus shove him up a kaleidoscope’s butt.”

 “He picked his nose. A lot. I mean the guy LOVED picking his nose. Anybody’s nose really. He wasn’t beyond shoving his pinky finger up the nostril of whomever was sitting on the barstool next to him. Weird. Caused all sorts of problems…. … … Come to think of it, he still owes me bail money.”

“In the small of his back, he had a little tramp stamp. Quite literally. It was a tat of Charlie Chaplin…. … … You don’t want to know where on his body Laurel and Hardy were tattooed.”

“He drank coffee through a straw … up his ass.  Tried it out as a Vegas act, but it never really caught on.  He was pretty big in Seattle, though.”

 “He’d take money out of the collection plate at church. Any church. EVERY church. The guy went around town stealing church money every Sunday to fund his all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet habit.”

“You sure he’s dead? No, seriously, poke him with a stick or something. I need to make sure that prick isn’t coming back…. … … Not like last time…. … … Oh, Jesus, not like last time.”

Yeah. That sounds about right.

Oh well, you can’t take it with you. And with the friends and “fans” I attract, why would I want to.

Now where did I put that box of doughnuts?

 

© 2017 Joseph P. Buonfiglio     All Rights Reserved.

JOEKU

Haiku with an Absurdist Twist

JOEKU #1: “The Donald’s Big Day”

by Joe Buonfiglio

Looking for Haiku with an Absurdist kick?  Welcome to “Joeku.”  This inaugural episode features … well … an inauguration!  Enjoy my first Joeku, “”The Donald’s Big Day.”

 © 2017 Joseph P. Buonfiglio     All Rights Reserved.
All videos are © 2017 Joseph P. Buonfiglio with All Rights Reserved.

“But I’m Trying, Ringo.”

When Did I Become Such a Mean Son of a Bitch?

by Joe Buonfiglio

“You really need to be a nicer person in 2017, Joe.” These words came across my phone’s speaker from one of my brothers today. “You’re way too angry.”

A scant few days earlier, my own beloved wife said, “Just give them the facts and let those facts speak for themselves. You can’t go around calling all of our Trump-supporting family and friends ‘Fascists’ and ‘dumbasses’ just because they voted for Trump.”

Can’t I?

If I see Trump as much of a danger as Hitler and the Republicans as responsible for him as the Nazi Party was for Adolf in the ’30s and ’40s, don’t I have a responsibility to rail against them? Isn’t my anger justified?

So after blowing up with a few choice FUCK-based expletive interjections along the way that found me sleeping on the couch (yet again), I calmed my rather rotund ass down and pondered her point.

Had my “When they go low, I’m going lower!” approach rendered myself an ineffectual debater? Was I merely preaching to the proverbial choir; that may make me feel better, but it doesn’t really forward my cause by changing the “hearts and minds” of rural white America in the “flyover states.” Am I being as dismissive of their concerns as they are of the (majority of) Americans who voted against Trump?

Yes. I believe I am.

I do need to be a “kinder, gentler” Joe in 2017. I need to persuade my Trumpian opponents with cogent, alternative points that appeal to their intelligence, not attack the combed-over corporeal representation of their concerns in a contemptuous manner.

I need to be … well …. NICER.

There are a lot of angry white men out there. I should understand that. I’m an angry white man. I might just be the ANGRIEST white man of all. Although, I was smart enough to see through a P. T. Barnum con man like Donald Trump and not vote for the fucking sleaze-bucket! What kind of fucking moron do you have to be to be taken in by this fucking piece of shit?! Wasn’t the fact that every white supremacist group supported the same candidate as you any kind of a fucking red flag that maybe you were backing a fucking bigoted Fascist?! Or is that just the kind of wink-and-a-nod dog whistle you were looking for to join the other crackers in their Army of the Dumbasses’ coalition to bring American democracy to its knees in an all-out war against decency, you fucking—

Sigh.

Yeah.  I know.

Not good.

O-kay. Well, this “nicer” thing is going to be a liiiiiiiiiiittle bit harder than I thought. But to quote Samuel L. Motherfucker Jackson in Pulp Fiction, “But I’m trying, Ringo. I’m trying real hard to be the shepherd.”

 

© 2017 Joseph P. Buonfiglio     All Rights Reserved.
All photos are © 2017 Joseph P. Buonfiglio with All Rights Reserved.

TIT Relief is Here!

DID THE “T-WORD” CAUSE YOUR “C-WORD”?
HELP IS NEAR!

by Joe Buonfiglio

Do you suffer from TIT syndrome? Have you found that since Donald Trump was elected President of the United States, you inexplicably blurt out an expletive every time you see his face on TV, in print media, social media and in other online media outlets? Has it gotten to the point where your once-abhorred exemplification of verbal vulgarity now uncontrollably reveals itself whenever you become the slightest bit angry or frustrated?

YOU ARE NOT ALONE. For me, it is the “C-word” that launches across my lips without warning or, at this point, even the stimulus of that ridiculous presidential comb-over even being in view. I, and many other Independents, Democrats and Liberals, suffer from the same malady brought on by CUNT!

Sorry.

… suffer from the same malady brought on by the focus of our Trumpian nightmare.  This is why I have started my new charitable foundation, CUNT!

I am so, so sorry.

… This is why I have started my new charitable foundation, Trump-Induced Tourette’s Relief.

For your simple donation of one CUNT!

For your simple donation of one CUNT! TWAT!

For your simple donation of one CUNT! TWAT! CRAB-FUCKER!

Oh, goddamn it.

For your simple donation of one-billion dollars, you can help a needy Progressive overcome this debilitating WHITE SUPREMACIST SHIT-KICKIN’ CRACKER SON OF A BITCH!

Sigh.

For your simple donation of one-billion dollars, you can help a needy Progressive overcome this debilitating disease by joining this great nation’s proud club of one-percenters that poor out-of-work white folks think — for some inexplicable reason — are going to sacrifice their own self-interests in order to help them.

So, won’t you please give generously today and show you FUCKING CON MAN PIECE OF ORGANGUTAN SCROTUM!

… show you care. Because, the TITS!

LIFE! Because the life you FUCK!

SAVE! The life you SAVE! Because, the life you save may be your oSHIT TINSEL!

Shit tinsel?

For the love of God, please give today.

 

© 2017 Joseph P. Buonfiglio     All Rights Reserved.
All photos are © 2017 Joseph P. Buonfiglio with All Rights Reserved.